


Mordelia Grimm and the Idiots Two

by ashspren



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: 2020 amirite, Carry On compliant, Christmas, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Exes, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Plotting, because I can't, can you believe it's almost christmas, emotionally constipated baz, except Baz isn't the one plotting this time, i don't make the rules, mordelia is a genius, mordelia is too good for you, penny is always a queen, so heavily beta-ed it's practically a greek letter, they just need to Communicate™, tween mordelia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:08:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27919501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashspren/pseuds/ashspren
Summary: Simon and Baz have had a rough past month. In short, they broke up. And now it’s Christmas.Mordelia Grimm is not okay with this.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54





	Mordelia Grimm and the Idiots Two

**Baz**

Most twenty-two-year-olds do not feel a kinship with their fifteen-year-old self. And I can’t fault them for that––young Basilton was an emotionally constipated twat, dramatic as all hell and, overall, an annoying little prat. 

Unfortunately, young Baz and I seem to have something in common: we’re both pining after Simon Snow. 

Dating Simon was electrifying. Years upon years of yearning and then, suddenly, he was mine. Our relationship was never particularly easy, what with the Humdrum and dragon wings and Simon losing his magic and my being a vampire. But it worked. We were happy. 

That is, until a month ago.

I don’t even remember what the fight was about. It was something small and stupid, escalating into harsher words like weapons digging into the places where we were most vulnerable, the sides of ourselves which we had only entrusted to one another. Then he was slamming the door in my face and telling me that I could “have the bloody flat, Baz” and stalking over to Penny’s place, highlighted by the London streetlight. 

I didn’t cry. Didn’t scream. Just loaded the dishwasher, numbly, and went to sleep. 

I thought maybe he’d come back, after he’d cooled off.

He didn’t.

Now, though, it’s Christmas Eve, and Daphne won’t tolerate any sort of doom and gloom around the holiday season. Nor will my stepsiblings. I, however, have returned to my default state of wanting something I can’t have. 

The train leaves in half an hour. I check over my bags, which are full of presents for my family. It’ll be good to see them again, to focus my mind on something other than blue eyes and curly hair, moles dotting the skin of a familiar face. 

* * *

**Simon**

I’m twenty-two. My life should be different than it was at fifteen. 

But I’m feeling a sense of déjà vu as I confirm my plans to spend Christmas at Penny’s this year, sitting in a Starbucks and drinking an eggnog latte.

For the past few years, I had been spending Christmas dinner with the Grimms and visiting the Bunces the following day. That’s changed this year, though. 

I don’t like to think about it. Baz is probably fine––great, even––basking in the victory of whatever the hell it is we fought about. 

_You sure?_ Penny’s text reads. She’s with her family already; the plan is for me to join them on Christmas Eve. _If you want to opt out, now’s the time. Mum and Dad need to know if they have to cook more than usual_

I’m about to send a message back ( _yea looking forward to it!!_ ) when I get a phone call from an unknown number. I take a sip of my latte and answer it. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi Simon!” answers a high-pitched voice. It sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place it. “It’s Mordelia!” 

Merlin’s _balls._ Baz’s little sister. Why is she calling me? “Um, hi Mordelia. Is everything okay? And how are you calling me?” 

“I got a phone last year, remember? You were there.” I can practically hear her rolling her eyes. Must be genetic. “Anyway, everything’s fine. I just wanted to invite you over for Christmas.”

I almost drop my drink. “I… I’m not sure if that’s a very good idea.”

“Why not?” 

Exhaling, I brace myself for the conversation I’m starting. “Do you know what a breakup is?” 

“Of _course_ I know what a breakup is!” she yells. I wince and bring the phone further from my ear. “I’m _eleven years old_ Simon, not a baby! I’m going through a very hard breakup of my own, actually.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes. I told Liam that if he wanted to Snapchat Elle all the time, he should be with her instead. It doesn’t matter. He was _awful_ at holding hands, anyway. It was _gross_ and _sweaty_.” 

“I can’t believe you have both Snapchat and a boyfriend at the age of eleven.” 

“Whatever,” she says. She’s going to make an _excellent_ teenager. “I know that you and Baz broke up. He’s not happy about it. And I don’t think you are either.” 

I pause. She’s not wrong. “You’re not supposed to know that.” 

“Oh come _on_ , Simon. I’m trying to help you out. Come over for Christmas, get back together with my brother, and remind me of what true love is to mend my broken heart.”

“You’re _eleven_.” 

“Practically a grown woman.” 

“That’s––that’s just––no.” 

“No to being a woman, or to Christmas?”

“Both!”

“But Simon––” 

“Okay, let’s put things this way,” I interrupt. “When you and Liam broke up––” 

_“I_ broke up with _him.”_

“Fine. When _you_ broke up with _him,_ things were probably weird between you for a little bit, right?”

“No. I slapped that arsehole across the face because he deserved it, and everything was fine. Harry gave me a high five. _His_ hands aren’t sweaty, _and_ he just finished reading _Crime and Punishment.”_

“Are you allowed to say that?”

“Say what?”

“...I don’t know if I’m allowed to say it in front of you. You’re a kid.” 

“Arsehole,” she declares. “Arsehole, ars––” 

“Fine, okay, stop. And who’s Harry? And isn’t _Crime and Punishment_ a bit mature for people your age?”

“Exactly. He’s _mature._ But I digress.” How is her vocabulary this developed? I suppose she _is_ Baz’s sister, after all. Must be his influence, the posh tosser. “Christmas?”

“I already said no!”

“Simooooon,” she wheedles. “Mum already said you could come. She’s making sour cherry scones.” 

The Watford scones are unbeatable, but Daphne is the only one who comes close to making them as good. 

“...how many scones are we talking about?” 

“As many as you want.” 

I mean… how could I ever turn down an offer like that?

“Alright,” I sigh. “What do you want me to do?” 

Mordelia sounds delighted. “Great! So do you have any fireworks?” 

“No?” 

“Ugh, boring. Dynamite?” 

“I––no!” 

“Oh my _God,”_ she whines. “Adults are so _bland.”_

“Sorry?” 

“Coke and mentos?” 

“Why do all of these have to do with explosions?” 

“Because explosions are _fun_ , Simon. Do you know what a combustion reaction is?” 

“Mordelia, I was literally a walking combustion reaction up until a few years ago.” 

“Magic isn’t chemistry. Don’t be dumb.” 

“You know chemistry?”

“Duh.”

“You’re eleven!” 

“And I’m a genius,” she says with an attitude. She probably just flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Deal with it.”

This feels like reading the fine print after you sign the contract. _Congrats Simon, you get to see your ex-boyfriend who you’re still in love with for the first time in a month._

_ *You also have to deal with his diabolical younger sister who literally just bullied you into submission.  _

Well, no backing out now.

* * *

**Baz**

I’m here to have a good Christmas. I’ll spend time with family, and I’m not going to think about––

That’s Simon’s car in the driveway. 

“Eight snakes and a fucking _dragon_ ,” I mutter under my breath. 

Mordelia opens the door before I even start up the walkway. She runs up to give me a hug. “Baz!” 

I scowl but return the hug nonetheless. “Don’t ‘Baz’ me. What’s he doing here?” 

“Who?” she asks, feigning innocence. 

I sigh. “I’m not stupid, Mordelia.” 

“Could’ve fooled me.” 

“Hey!” I retort. “I’m a vampire, you know. I could––” 

“Oh yeah, wow, vampire, very scary,” she says mockingly. “I’m terrified right now.”

Younger sisters are a curse from a malevolent god. 

As Mordelia leads me into the house, tracing the familiar path up to my room––never offering to help me carry my bags, naturally––she’s suspiciously quiet. 

“Where’s… everyone else?”

“In the dining room,” she answers innocently. “We’ve been waiting for you to start dinner.” 

“Sorry, my train was late.” 

“That’s okay.” We walk in silence, but then she breaks it: “You’re sad, Baz.” 

I shrug. There’s no point in lying to her, especially when she’s already taken the liberties to essentially ruin my Christmas. “Not sad, but just… not happy.” 

“Simon isn’t happy either.” 

“Mordelia, these are things that you don’t understand.”

“Tell that to bloody _Liam._ Speaking of––”

“One, watch your language. And two, I’m not attacking your pre-teen boyfriend.” 

“But he deserves it!” 

“You were too good for him,” I point out. “You shouldn’t have settled for a boy who’s not even in advanced maths.” 

Mordelia stops to ponder this. “You’re right. But don’t try to change the subject. Will you talk to him?” 

I play dumb. “Who?”

“Don’t be daft, idiot.” 

“Fine. Maybe.” 

She gives me another hug before flouncing off down the stairs. “I knew it! Love you!” 

I set the bags down, flop onto my bed, and groan into a pillow. It’s very undignified, but I think I deserve this. 

* * *

**Simon**

Dinner is always nice at the Pitch mansion.

I’m sitting at the table, glass of wine in hand, and talking with Daphne, who apparently doesn’t hate me right now. I’m a little surprised––I expected her to be defensive of Baz, but she’s very pleasant. 

Mr. Grimm makes up for it, though. His stare is heavy and judgemental. I feel like he’s about to cast _“dead as a doornail”_ at me. It’s a bit fucking terrifying. 

Mordelia slides into the seat next to me. “Baz is coming soon.” 

Daphne is bringing things in from the kitchen. 

“Need any help?” I offer. 

She smiles as an answer. “That would be great, Simon. Thank you.” 

I follow her into the kitchen and pick up the platter of roast beef. Before I can leave, though, she prompts, “Simon?”

I know where this is heading. “Yeah?” 

“He misses you. Please talk to him.” 

“I miss him too,” I say softly. 

* * *

**Baz**

When I come downstairs, there’s only one _fucking_ seat left at the table. And it’s right next to the boy I’m trying to forget. 

I’m a bit impressed, honestly. Mordelia is excellent at plotting. Very thorough. 

She waves me over to sit down. It’s even more awkward to refuse, so I gingerly slide into the chair next to Simon. I pretend his seat is empty. He seems fine with doing the same with my own. 

Mordelia raises an eyebrow at Simon. It’s unsubtle, but I don’t think she’s trying to be. She stabs her fork forcefully in my direction. Father pretends not to see. Daphne hides a smile behind her hand. My other step siblings are too young to understand what’s going on, but I think Mordelia has probably bribed them with sweets or something of that sort to stay quiet. 

Simon eventually turns to me. “Um. Happy Christmas.” 

“And you, Snow,” I respond, giving him a slow nod. Then, I turn to my stepmother and give her a warm smile. “The food looks wonderful, Daphne.” 

“Thank you, Baz.” 

No one is talking. It’s uncomfortable. When I inevitably find myself in the pits of hell after death, this situation will forever haunt me as my eternal punishment. 

“Okay, everyone stop!” Mordelia interjects, standing up. I suppress the urge to tell her that no one is doing anything, which is the reason everything’s unpleasant in the first place. She turns to Simon. “This was _not_ the plan.” 

“I panicked, okay?” 

“No, it’s _not_ okay.” She pointed at the door. “Simon, Baz, you two go to the living room and sort out your problems. And for the love of Morgana, just _communicate.”_

“As you wish,” I mutter under my breath. Simon snorts, but we’re both leaving the dining room, so Mordelia’s winning anyway. 

We sit down on the sofa. There’s a quiet between us––not particularly uncomfortable, just… adjusting. 

“I missed you,” Simon blurts out, looking down at his hands. They’re in his lap, fidgeting. “Still do. And I’m sorry.” 

“Glowing apology, Snow.” 

He looks up at me. We make eye contact, and it sends a jolt through me that’s rousing and oh so familiar. “At least I’m making an effort.” 

He’s right. “Yes. You are.” 

Another moment of silence. Simon speaks first again. 

“I never wanted to end things, you know. I said a lot of things I didn’t mean that night.” 

“As did I. I suppose I’m sorry as well.” 

“You suppose? Or you are?” 

It’s becoming a Herculean effort to keep my face stoic. “I am.” 

“Good.” 

Silence again. 

Simon exhales. “I… well, I just—” 

“Yes?” I interrupt. 

“Shut up,” he snaps. “I just–– what are we now, Baz?” 

I shrug. Because for once, I’m truly lost for words. “...Not boyfriends,” I answer hesitantly. “Not even friends, really. You made that decision.” 

“I regret it.” He’s looking down again.

“Really?” 

“Yes,” he says. “I mean it. I want to take it back, if you’ll let me.” 

_No take-backsies,_ is what Mordelia’s voice says in my head. Except I suppose that’s not her opinion this time around. 

“I’m… not sure,” is what I say instead.

“Boooo,” interjects another voice. Mordelia is in the hallway, walking in the direction of the bathroom. “Communication, _Basilton,”_ she sings as she disappears around the corner. 

“I,” I begin, “am going to _destroy_ her.” 

“No,” Snow says, “you’re going to _communicate_ with me.” His face is open, earnest. He’s too good for whatever this is. 

I’m scared to let him back in my life, in all honesty. Maybe it’s safer if I keep him an arm’s length away––or further. “But,” I say, and then I close my eyes. I don’t say anything more. 

“Are you _kidding_ me?!” Mordelia’s voice screeches. 

I look over to the hallway, where she’s still standing. “I thought you were using the loo.”

She rolls her eyes. “Obviously _not,_ Baz, that was just my cover-up for eavesdropping. And it seemed to fool you, so. Look at me go.” 

“Mordelia,” Simon placates. “We were getting there.” 

“Oh, obviously not,” she retorts. “My idiot brother doesn’t know how to deal with his own feelings. So I’ll do a dramatic interpretation so you can understand his woes.” 

“This is truly unnecessary,” I snap, panicking inside. “Mor––” 

“Oh, woe is me!” she cries, the back of her hand slapping against her forehead. “You’re too good for me, Simon Snow.” 

This is already hitting too close to home. I know Simon could pick me up just to drop me again. Leave me to deal with the damage and ruins. Leave me _again_. And it will never be the other way around. “Mordelia, st––” 

But she continues on like the stubborn person I raised her to be. “I’m too far gone to stop loving you, Simon Snow, you… en–– enigmatic? Am I using that word right?” 

“Yes,” I mutter, resigning myself to whatever fate shall befall me. 

“Okay, great. You enigmatic, beautiful, _disaster_ of a man––”

“I’m not disastrous,” Simon cuts in. 

“Yes you are. You drink eggnog lattes.” 

“How did you even know that?” 

“Lucky guess.” 

“Stop,” I say firmly. “Mordelia, go back to dinner. Let us talk things through.” 

She grins. “Okay. But you should thank Mum for making me take a drama class this year. I’m a _great_ actress.” Then she flounces off to the dining room––presumably. She could be eavesdropping again. 

Simon turns to face me. “Um… I’m not really sure where to begin now.” 

_You and me both, Snow._ I don’t respond. 

“How much of that was true?” he asks hesitantly. 

_Shamefully, most of it,_ I think to myself. I would be proud of Mordelia if it wasn’t so pathetically easy for her to act like me. Of course I’m that dramatic. Crowley, that’s embarrassing. 

“Well,” I begin carefully. I keep my tone even and flippant, eyes focused on a spot above his left shoulder and avoiding his face at all costs. “Mordelia does a halfway accurate impression of me. So I suppose—”

I’m cut off by Simon’s lips on mine. 

I’m so shocked I forget to pull away. And then I’m lost in the feeling of Simon warming me from the inside out, a feeling I’ve missed so dearly. Everything clicks into place once again—how right this is.

He pulls back after a few seconds. “I never said you could do that,” I reprimand. 

Fear briefly flashes over his face. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean t––” 

But I’m the one leaning in this time, cupping his jawline and kissing him softly, reveling in the sensation after foregoing it for weeks. My other hand is sitting uselessly on the brown leather of the sofa, so I reach out and lace my fingers through his own. He smiles against my mouth.

I look down at our tangled hands. “We still have a lot to talk about.” 

“Yeah,” he says. “We do.” But now he’s giving me a genuine smile, and it warms me to my core. 

* * *

**Simon**

We walk back into the dining room holding hands. 

“Finally,” Mordelia groans. “I’m so glad I didn’t have to bring out the mistletoe.” 

“Where would you get that from?” Mr. Grimm asks over Baz’s incredulous protests (“Seriously, how much _time_ did you put into this?” “I get it from you, dear brother”), and then the entire table is smiling and talking. It’s nice. Really feels like a family. 

Daphne looks over at me and winks, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint I have to keep from laughing my arse off. 

“Happy Christmas,” Baz tells me as we sit back down, kissing me gently on the cheek. 

I feel myself smiling. “Happy Christmas, Baz.” I know I said it earlier, but it feels right this time. 

* * *

**Two Days Later**

**Penny**

Simon and Baz show up on Boxing Day. Together.

“Fucking _finally,”_ I say as I drag them inside. Simon squawks in retaliation while Baz rolls his eyes fondly. 

As they make their way over to greet the rest of my family, I take out my cell phone to send a quick text. _Nice work_. 

Mordelia Grimm responds quickly. _ty they’re stupid._

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this Twitter post](https://www.instagram.com/p/CIEAdNwBo9v/?igshid=1xxkr86f1jsey) (but modified a bit for the seasonal relevance, drama, and epic reunion). 
> 
> [Tumblr post here.](https://ashspren-writes.tumblr.com/post/636797844887568384/mordelia-grimm-and-the-idiots-two-rating)
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! I have zero self-control, so I thought of the concept and decided to write it ASAP. Hope you enjoyed it :)
> 
> ~~Thx to my gorgeous beautiful amazing perfect in every way goddess of a beta sconey - Totally Not Sconey~~
> 
> But in all seriousness, [sconelover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sconelover) is wonderful. Anything you read in this fic that’s remotely serious, tear-jerking, or just… not crack? That was her. Thanks for beta-ing and turning this random gibberish into a coherent fic, Sconey <3


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